


Chosen

by AptGoodTouch (orphan_account)



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Ambiguous Main Character, And then Liking it, Bestiality, But they are an Au Ra, Fucking for Magical Reasons (TM), Heavensward Spoilers, Other, Straight up Dragon Fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 08:34:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5121785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/AptGoodTouch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The Warrior sat nearby, their back to a thorny formation of crystals as they dozed. A small fire crackled before them, orange and light blue light mingling as night fell over the tainted islands. And Midgardsormr watched."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pt 1

The Warrior sat nearby, their back to a thorny formation of crystals as they dozed. A small fire crackled before them, orange and light blue light mingling as night fell over the tainted islands. And Midgardsormr watched. He had gained enough aether over their travels to assume a larger form, and so the large dragon lay, resting his head on his claws, his spiked tail flicking lazily.

 

When he had first met the Warrior, they had been… different. Weaker, yes. They, too, had gained strength in their travels. He had been surprised at how open they had been with him, though at first he had brushed it off as the foolishness of a mortal. No larger than a hatchling, they had invited him to perch on their shoulder, watch Eorzea as they rode all over the lands. They had even begun to share their food with him, offer him the freshest, finest fish they pulled up and ask his preferences. Ask about him, though the topic was still unsteady ground.

 

Part of him had expected that to change when they reached Ishgard. And yet, their first night in the frozen city, the Warrior had returned to their inn room with an extra bit of meat for him. They had held up the covers and invited him to sleep curled against their chest. Their hand had rested on his side, caressed his too-delicate hide, when they spoke.

 

“Midgardsormr? I’ll look different in the morning.”

 

He poked his head up, blinking at them. The Warrior had smiled then and laughed, pointed at an empty bottle on the bedside table as though that alone explained. A grumpy huff of smoke from his nostrils only made them laugh.

 

“A fantasia.”

 

That, the father of dragons understood.

 

He had curled back up with a hum and tucked his wings back close to his sides, content to enjoy the warmth of this mortal, the crackle of low flames in the fireplace.

 

No matter the surface, the Warrior was still the Warrior. He had left his mark on their very soul. Hydaelen’s child was his.

  


A cool draft woke him the next morning. Stretching his small legs and wings, he poked his head up, letting out a questioning chirp. And blinked.

 

A mortal stood across the room, shuffling through robes. He knew it was the Warrior. His mark still burned inside them, an echo of dragonfire in their chest, but… Scales. They had _scales_ now. A slender tail, shaped much like his own. A pair of horns that curled forward around their delicate face and… And he couldn’t help but think as they slipped on a pair of clawed gloves, black-scaled as they were, that it was right.

 

He flew over and landed on their shoulder, chirping in greeting and delight as he noticed the scales down their neck, the sharpness of almost fangs in their mouth as they grinned back at him. Their eyes burned bright, ringed in pink-red that glowed.

 

“So Ishgard’s savior will wear the scales of my kin?”

 

The Warrior laughed, the lightest they had sounded since the long nights in Haurchefant’s halls, since before their mortal friends had cast themselves into the line of fire for them.

 

It would have been a lie to claim he hadn’t been pleased. His Warrior, powerful and lit from within with his flames, bearing his scales on their form.

 

A form and a spirit he had grown fond of as they struggled through deep snows and lost mountain ranges, as he watched the Warrior kneel to speak with dragonlings, treating them with the same respect they showed towards kings and nobles.

 

He shifted his grown claws, inhaling the scent of smoke and tainted Mericydian flowers around them. Soon they would fly together to the Allagan ship. Soon they would fight the Heaven’s Ward. His eyes returned to their relaxed form, lingered on the way the fire light and crystal played across their scales and horns.

 

There would be no chance for this later.

 

Midgardsormr stood, stepping around the barding which helped the mortal hang onto him as he bore them into the sky and padded towards them, twigs and gravel crunching under his strong claws.

 

“Warrior,” his voice rumbled deep, more appropriate to this size than his pitiful form of before. The Warrior stirred, those fiery eyes no less fiery now than the first time he beheld them. They yawned, shielding their mouth with their false-claw gloves as they sat up, giving him one of their rare smiles.

 

“What is it Midgard?”

 

He purred his approval before he laid down before them, brought himself down to eye-level with them.

 

“Our travels will come to an end soon.”

 

They nodded. He didn’t miss how their smile faded. How they pet their injured arm; an injury sustained despite another mortal giving their own life to protect them. He let himself lean forward, nudge their hand with his snout and purr for them. The small laugh it drew from them was worth it. The feel of their small claws on his head caressing his fins.

 

“Whether by our defeat or theirs, yes.”

 

Midgardsormr shook his head.

 

“You will not fall to them.”

 

His Warrior paused. He opened his bright eyes, looking up into their own.

 

“You are my chosen. You bear strength within you befitting the horns and eyes of my kin.” He lifted his head and rested his chin on their shoulder, humming against them. Closer than they had ever been, save for when his wings lifted them skyward. His claws rested near their legs. His wings formed a barrier between them and the rest of this shadow of the dragon’s homelands. He waited until they wrapped their arms around his neck and embraced him, felt the way their body shook.

 

His claws stroked their back. He whispered soft words to them, cheek to cheek, until their small body pressed to his chest, their hands gripping his scales.

 

He inhaled their scent.

 

It reminded him of home. Of days long dead to mortals, but near yesterday for him.

 

“Lay with me, Warrior.”

 

They lifted their head, stared up at him with confusion and surprise on their face. He let his claws trail down their back once more. Trace the subtle ridge of scales there, pet down along their slim tail.

 

“Lay with me as Shiva once lay with Hraesvaelgr. I would give you my last blessing.”

 

Their face reddened. Their hands went still on his hide as they looked away, thinking. He gave them silence, continuing to trace their slim form. Wind whistled through the trees above them. A small river trickled nearby and the distant cries of his kin echoed across the fractured island, so few, so diminished.

 

The Warrior shifted. He looked back to them, their eyes meeting. He could smell apprehension in their body but also… Interest. They nodded.

 

“Just tell me what I have to do.”

 

They hung on his every word. Few as they were as he lay them in the soft grass. As they bared their body to him and gasped as he moved above them, so large compared to them, feeling the way their mortal body twitched. Listened to their soft cries of pleasure, blending with the distant cries of the dragons and his own roar as he emptied himself inside them. He could feel the tightening of the magic tying them as they trembled on him. When they separated at last, he could see the flame of his covenant burning with renewed vigor in their chest, but… Unseen to mortal eyes, there across their back. A new brand.

 

The mark of his wings.

 

He traced it as they lay together, curled against him as they drifted to sleep in his grasp.

 

No longer just his Warrior.

 

His Chosen.

 


	2. pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Midgardsormr could have purred with pride as his Chosen sat upon his back, willingly choosing to use his wings to return to Ishgard instead of the ship that hummed beside them. Ignoring the curious looks of their companions. Neither said a word about that night they had lain together, but he could feel the way their hand lingered just at the edge of the barding. Just enough to let their bare fingertips rest on his scales. "

Midgardsormr could have purred with pride as his Chosen sat upon his back, willingly choosing to use his wings to return to Ishgard instead of the ship that hummed beside them. Ignoring the curious looks of their companions. Neither said a word about that night they had lain together, but he could feel the way their hand lingered just at the edge of the barding. Just enough to let their bare fingertips rest on his scales.

 

They had sat proud as they landed in Ishgard. No fear of the arrows levelled towards them, staying by his side as he had spoken to Ishgard’s new ruler.

 

And then they had parted; Midgardsormr had much to speak of with the mortal Aymeric, and his Chosen’s work was never done.

 

But as the weeks crawled by, weeks of hastily prepared chambers for what Ishgard assumed would be appropriate for draconic comfort, weeks of not so subtle glances and whispers, part of him began to wonder. What was his Chosen doing? He knew they never remained in one place long. But it had been… different before. He had always been there, hanging onto their shoulder with his tiny claws or tucked into their robes; they had insisted on shielding him from the driving snow and ice, and in time he had grown to like the feel of their smooth skin and warmth against him.

 

He growled softly, claws dragging on the stone tile of his room. Oh he could remember that skin. The studs of scales that had caught on his belly scales as he mounted them, the feel of their tail coiling around his back leg as his flesh sank into their own. The way his loins stirred at the memory only made it worse. This… desire was unfamiliar to him. That it was directed towards a mortal…

 

Yet there was no denying he had enjoyed it. He had enjoyed spilling his magic and his seed into them and knew that he would do it again if given the chance.

 

Almost as if summoned, someone knocked on the door.

 

The moment he emerged from his frustrated imaginings, he knew who it was. Knew as he stood and bade them enter, unable to hide his purr as his Chosen entered with a smile. Their robes had changed, now thin and elegant, their false claws shining gold. They pressed a finger to their lips, sliding the door closed and, slowly, as though unsure, slid the bolt of the lock into place. The two moved together, the dragon pressing his head against their back as they embraced his neck.

 

“I have missed your company, my Chosen.”

 

They smiled against his scales before they separated. Standing close, their bright eyes locked together before they leant in and pressed a kiss to his snout.

 

“And I, you.”

 

Together, they walked back to the pile of furs. Both of them paused at the edge, looking towards one another. He could smell the scent of the Hinterlands on their clothes, the lingering musk of their griffin companion, and apprehension. They sat slowly, edging into the plush pile, brushing it with their claws as their tail flicked.

 

“Midgardsormr, I must ask… That night in Azys Lla when we lay together?”

 

He purred as he nodded. Could feel the warmth in his stomach. His Chosen’s face darkened slightly, a nervous smile on their lips.

 

“I have found myself wondering,” they continued, looking up to meet his eyes. “If you enjoyed it as much as I did.”

 

The dragon’s purr rumbled deeper. He rested his claws on their thighs, pleased at the way they allowed him to spread their legs and nuzzle his maw against their inner thigh. The subtle vulnerability in the tremor through their body.

 

“Oh yes, Chosen,” he whispered, grip tightening. He let his length begin to slip free, shivered from his head fins to the tip of his tail as he snuffled and licked at their thighs, listened to the way they gasped for him. Smelled their nervousness give way to excitement. He tugged loosely on their flowing robes before he raised his head and licked along one of their horns.

 

“Disrobe for me. Let Halone watch as dragon and mortal lay together within her city.” A growl of desire edged through his voice, low and unmistakable.

 

And then he sat back. Content to watch his flushed Chosen splayed in furs, watch their claws pick nervously at their robes before they slid them open, bared their smooth skin and dark scales to his appreciative gaze. He encouraged them with a soft chuff, a lick up their arm when they faltered. It had been easier for them, in the dark. But as they peeled off the last piece and lay before him at last, surrounded by furs, each curve of their delicate body catching the glow of firelight, he could feel their confidence.

 

He could see the marks he had left on their soul as he moved forward, laving his tongue over their skin, taking time to appreciate. There was no need to rush this time. He allowed himself to taste them thoroughly, dip his tongue into them and taste only what his length had felt before, pick up the notes of salt on their skin, purr as their legs spread and hooked over his thighs. Their claws caressed his stomach, a gasp torn from their throat as he allowed himself to rut against them, let them feel the heat of him against their body. Let them feel what they wanted within them, let them see him, feel the slickness that smeared along their stomach.

 

But he did not tease them long.

 

Dragons were eternal, but he had waited long enough to enjoy his mortal’s flesh once more. He steadied himself, growling. Their hands slipped around his length, stroking him as they shivered in want and then… felt them guide his thickness to their entrance. Felt the way they quivered with want.

 

Their thighs squeezed around his body as he sank inside them, slow but forceful, one smooth movement until he hilted himself deep within and let himself moan, clench his claws in the furs as they trembled beneath him, impaled on his heat.

 

And then. Then he began to move. Began to rock forward and back, relish the pull of their softness around him, each flutter and gasp they gave him as they clung to his powerful body. While they couldn’t scream their pleasure this time, both of them aware of what would happen should their breeding be discovered, the quiet made it all that more intimate. Only the sounds of their bodies meeting, their muffled sounds as each pursued their own pleasure in the other until the father of dragons grasped them in his claws, held them down on his member as he pulsed, spilled a hot flood of his seed within them. A smile graced his fanged maw as he felt them shake and clench on him, climaxing with him.

 

There was no way to disguise the origin of the white fluid leaking from their entrance when they separated at last. His length still hung heavy and eager beneath his stomach. His Chosen’s body flushed with desire even as they panted.

 

And turned over. Offering their body for him to mount once more.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Halone wept. 
> 
> (Midgard was into it.) 
> 
> THIS IS THE END OF MY DRAGON FUCKING ADVENTURES FOR NOW. 
> 
> I apologize but also not really.
> 
> OH YEAH. Also my main is a summoner so. Those are the robes. They're ... technically wearing in this ahaha. But it's vague in case there are other mage-maining dragon fuckers out there. Among the stars...
> 
> **EDIT!!** 
> 
> SO I'm not sure how many peeps are reading this through 100% but if y'all like this, let me know! I'd love to write more dragon lovin's so seriously, hit me up, let me know! Leave a comment or a kudo, I'd be fucking delighted to write more!

**Author's Note:**

> First off: I know Au Ra are canonically of demonic ancestry. But they also came with the DRAGONS expansion and pretty much everyone I know calls them dragon people. 
> 
> So in my horribly self-indulgent fic, yes Midgard calls the WoL a dragon. Especially with them using a fantasia (dubiously canon themselves, I know but hey work with me here) right as Heavensward plot begins. 
> 
> Anyway, I'm incredibly thirsty for Midgardsormr but I also did kind of forget -exactly- how much bigger he is than ... at least my character. Who is very dainty. And ngl is who I was imagining in this. 
> 
> But... lbr... size difference... is golden...


End file.
